


Breakout

by xspiritofthemapleleaf



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Gang AU, Gen, Jack's Heist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:46:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1777882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xspiritofthemapleleaf/pseuds/xspiritofthemapleleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Jack's heist, Ray finds himself under the custody of the police. Using the skills taught to him under the Fake AH Crew, Ray has to find a way back to his boys. Unfortunately, the road back is sometimes longer than the road leading in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakout

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt was left to me in the comments of my other Fake AH Crew story. I decided I'd release this short two-parter while I figure out how to get over my writer's block on the other one. I'm not sure when I'll finish this. Hopefully it will tide you over. Enjoy!

It was the methodical _beep_ of his own heart that brought Ray back to the living.

There was silence as deafening as a siren, and a strange sensation throughout his body, toes and fingers tingling as he slowly awoke from the dead.

And then came the pain.

It was like an elephant had sat on his chest; every breath felt constricted, like his lungs were pushing at his ribs. His leg muscles ached and throbbed, and his temples seemed ready to burst.

His eyes opened; artificial white light filled his entire vision, aggravating his headache. Above him white shapes moved, making sounds he couldn’t quite make out.

But he could hear the beeping. With much effort, Ray turned his head to the noise, but saw only greyish blobs to his left. The beeping grew more erratic, and the white shapes began to shout. Or, at least it like shouting.

Then Ray’s breathing slowed, and he closed his eyes, the beeping and voices fading away.

…

The next time he awoke, the pain had lessened. His breaths were only a dull throb, and his headache was almost unnoticeable.

He blinked his eyes open, wincing at the harsh flood light above him. It was quiet, all except for the small _beep beep_ again. This time when he looked for it he could see the culprit: a heart monitor, chugging along at a steady rate.

Where the hell was he? A hospital?

Ray sat up, wincing slightly as his chest protested. He looked down, noticing for the first time a strange blur that covered his nose and mouth. Oxygen mask, Ray realized. He quickly tugged it off.

The room was large, the size of three bedrooms. Everything was white; the walls, the floor, it was the pasty color. He squinted, realizing for the first time his glasses were missing.

Ray looked over himself, recognizing the feel of a soft hospital gown. The bed underneath him was soft and comfortable, like he had been the first to use it. A small metal stand stood right next to his bed, and he reached for it, feeling various tools before the familiar frame of his glasses touched his fingertips. He grabbed them and put them on. His surroundings came into sharp focus.

He was lying in the middle of a tiled room, the only other occupants various machines set up around him that, he assumed, were to keep him alive. The only exit was a single metal door, its window meshed with wire.

This was no hospital. This was a holding cell.

“The heist,” Ray muttered to himself, eyes widening in remembrance. Jack’s ludicrous plan to land a luxury jet down a serious highway and escape by taking off had been successful, so far as Ray knew. The last thing he remembered was watching them fly away as the police closed in around him. He was meant to die a heroic death, defending his friends from the cops so that they could escape. He had taken several bullets before he lost consciousness.

And yet he was still alive. Ray reached behind his head, undoing his hospital gown. He tugged it off, revealing the white gauze wrapped around his chest. As he shifted, his hand felt for the places that hurt the most; his lower right torso in line with his bellybutton, then right above it in the middle of his ribs, and finally his left pectoral. Three bullets. The last one should’ve killed him.

He shifted his feet to side of the bed, stomach a little queasy at the thought of standing up. But then he moved his right arm and realized he was pulling something along. He removed the heart monitor from the tip of his finger, clicking his tongue when the machine flatlined. He hopped no one would come running.

There was also a needle in his arm. Right. An IV. He’d just have to pull it out, like in the movies.

He gave it a tug, stopping immediately as a stinging sensation shot up his arm. He grit his teeth, took a breath, and gave it a sharp yank. The needle came out, but not without hurting like hell. Fucking movies certainly didn’t do that part justice.  

Standing was a little difficult, but with shaky legs he managed. He reached for a nicely folded sheet of fabric on the stand where his glasses were, pleasantly surprised when he discovered they were thin pants, at least three sizes too big. He put them on as quickly as he could, pulling the drawstring around the waist as tight as it would go.

He also grabbed the tools left there: a spool of medical thread used for stitches, a pair of tongs, two needles, and a surgical knife. It was odd to Ray that they would leave tools like that right next to him. Was he meant to wake up?

The door was locked when he tried it. Of course it was, he was in prison. He looked back to where he had been lying. Maybe he could get someone to unlock it for him…

He had already removed the heart monitor with no response. He knew he’d have to do something more drastic to get someone’s attention.

And then what? He thought, freezing him in place. He’d have to escape a prison with only a surgical knife to guard him. And even if he got past the security, what would he do then? He didn’t even know if he was in Los Santos anymore. He could be on the other side of the country, for all he knew.

He shook his head. No. He had to get back to the crew. They would take care of him. They were probably losing their minds by now, worrying over him and possibly trying to come up with their own rescue plan. He couldn’t let them put themselves at risk for him.

Ray looked over to where the machines were plugged in. He bit his lip, a thought forming in the mind.

Why not pull the plug?

He probably should’ve thought about where to hide before he did it, but as Ray heard the scuff of shoes coming from the hall, he decided it was too late.

The door would provide enough coverage, he thought, standing next to it. It opened up towards the inside, which would provide him a few seconds of cover when they, whoever they were, walked in.

There was a beeping sound and the door unlocked. Ray stood absolutely still.

Two men walked in, both dressed in lab coats. Judging by the way the one closest to him stood--a hand in his coat and body tucked in defensibly--the man had a gun on his person.

Too late to discover anything else though, because at that moment both men froze at the sight of the empty bed.

Ray took this as his chance. He twirled the knife in his hand before driving it straight into the man’s jugular. The guy let out a strangled cry before crumpling to the ground. Next to him the other man gasped and swung wildly, fear evident on his face.

Ray sidestepped the swing easily, years of combat training making his reflexes quick. He threw a sharp left hook, nailing the man right in the jaw. As he stumbled back, Ray kicked the guy’s feet out from under him.

Ray grabbed the gun, a pistol, from the other guy, who was unpleasantly bleeding out on the ground. He cocked the gun and pointed it right in between the eyes of the still conscious man.

“Where am I?” Ray demanded.

The man gulped, eyes wide on the gun. “L-los Santos prison. Please don’t shoot…”

“How long have I been here?” Ray pressed the pistol to his forehead.

The guy began blubbering. “Three weeks! Three weeks! You’re the only one we caught! Please!” The man dissolved into sobs.

Ray rolled his eyes. In one swift movement he smacked the man square in the forehead with the butt of the pistol. He didn’t speak after that.

Three weeks? That didn’t make any sense to Ray. He was still in Los Santos, but no one had come to rescue him. Not even Michael, who would sooner blow up the entire city than let Ray remain in chains. Or Ryan, who would blow up the city _and_ rescue Ray simultaneously.

Ray frowned. Something must be up.

“But first,” he said aloud, staring down at the two bodies next to his feet. “A little wardrobe change.”

…

_Fucking Christ, I wish I had a belt,_ was all Ray thought as he walked through the prison halls dressed as a…a what? A doctor? He didn’t even know.

The khakis didn’t fit him right at all, and the white coat dragged on the floor if he wasn’t careful, but it was worth walking through the halls of the prison freely and having security guards and police nod at him as he passed. Besides, the other’s man pants were stained an ugly red, and that would look a little bit conspicuous.

Finding an exit had proved to be more difficult than he thought. The halls were a maze to him, and there were no signs. He knew he had only minutes before they discovered he was missing. He considered asking someone. No. They would know something was wrong then.

He was just about to pull out his gun and start threatening someone when he saw it. An elevator. Next to the up button read “Ground Level”. Ray didn’t even know he was underground.  

He pushed the button, tapping his foot impatiently as the elevator worked its way to him. He let out a small sigh as the metal doors slid open. Ray stepped in and immediately pushed the button to close the doors.

“Hold the door!” A gruff voice cried, and Ray watched as a foot was shoved into the small space left between the doors. The elevator doors opened automatically. Four men and a woman dressed identically to Ray stepped in.

Ray held his breath as they closed in around them. The man who had spoken up talked again. “Thanks. It’s hard to catch a break here.”

Ray nodded politely as the elevator started to move. He just had to act normally. In a few seconds he would be gone and they would never know. Easy.

That’s when the alarms came.

They turned the elevators light red, and around him the people began to mutter in concern as the elevator came to a stop:

“What’s that?”

“Security breach.”

“Someone’s breaking out.”

“Oh no.”

Ray bit his lip, taking a step away from everyone. A fatal mistake, he realized. The guy closest to him noticed. He frowned at Ray, looking at him up and down. And then his eyes widened.

Ray looked where he was looking. There at the edge of his white coat, was a small splatter of blood.

Damn. So close.

Ray lashed out, driving a needle straight into the man’s eye. As he shrieked, Ray pushed him towards the rest of them, momentarily stunning all of them. It was just enough time for him to rearm himself with the small knife and pistol, though he couldn’t fire. That would just help them locate him.

He flicked his wrist, slashing one of the men that had regained his footing. As Ray hacked, the guy’s coat became red with blood. As he went down, the third guy charged him. Ray grabbed his wrist and sidestepped, driving him straight into the metal wall. Ray grabbed his hair and slammed the man’s head into the wall over and over until his face was bloody. As Ray released him the guy slumped to the ground.

There was a gunshot behind him, and Ray whirled around just in time to see the woman launch a bullet into the remaining man’s head. Then she trained the gun on him.

Ray’s pistol shot up, locked and loaded. They were at a standstill.

Confusion entered his mind. “Did you just—“            

“Shoot my partner? Yes.” The woman’s brown eyes were unreadable. She was much younger than the others, Ray realized, with a face almost his age and chocolate brown hair pulled into a braid. “Put your gun down.”

“No,” Ray spat. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“In about thirty seconds the facility will go into full security lockdown. The elevator’s already stopped working, and you’ll need a code to reactivate it. Something tells me you don’t have that.” The woman lips curled into a small smirk. “Put the gun down.”

Every bit of his logic told Ray not to listen to her, but something told him he could trust her. Call it a hunch, and his hunches were almost always correct.

Reluctantly, he lowered his gun.

She did the same. She went to the buttons and punched in a sequence. The elevator lights turned white, and it began to move.

Ray watched her with a strange curiosity. “Who are you?”

“A friend,” she replied. The doors slid open, and she turned to him, handing Ray her badge. “Follow the left wall all the way until you reach the emergency exit. Use this card to swipe so you don’t set off any more alarms.” She pushed him away. “Go.”

“Wait. Why are you helping me now?” Ray asked, steps hesitant.

She rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding me? You were supposed to be under heavy narcotics. You think you could’ve done this alone?” The elevator doors began to close. “Get going. You of all people know you have a small window of opportunity. Good luck, Ray.” The doors shut.

Ray stood there for a moment, blinking. Then he shook his head and took off along the left wall.

He reached the emergency doors, and opened them with no alarm thanks to the security badge. Ray realized with a start he was in an alleyway, guarded by barbed wire on either side. He was almost out.

He used the tongs to hold the barb wire down just enough for him to climb over. Then he jumped the fence.

And he ran.

…

It was pitch dark when he came to a stop, in the middle of small beat-down neighborhood. Ray dimly recalled this area of town as a place where the crew would go racing, if they weren’t in the mood to battle cops.

He gasped, out of breath, and almost stumbled to the ground. His chest felt like it was on fire, his wounds pounding on his lungs. Ray struggled to the side of a house, and leaned heavily on it to catch his breath.

He needed new clothes. His priority was to blend in, and he couldn’t in blood-splattered khakis. He heard sirens in the distance. It wouldn’t be too long before they began to search here.

He sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow. The night was hot and humid, and it didn’t make anything better.

The front door of the house was unlocked, and Ray paused as he heard voices. Then he relaxed, hearing the soft snores of someone from the living room. The voices were coming from the TV.

Ray helped himself to some clothes in the bedroom, being careful to hide his other soiled ones. A simple jeans and t-shirt would do. Ray grabbed a hoodie too, deciding it should be better to hide his face.

Before he left, he heard the TV again. It was a newscast, talking about a prison break.

Ray entered the living room, watching silently.

“--confirmed at least seven dead. Police officials claim that the man was shot down, and the chase was over.”

Ray frowned. He wasn’t shot down, that was for sure.

The reporter continued. “In other news, police are still searching for the notorious Fake AH Crew. Almost a month ago they were held responsible for robbing six convenience stores and landing a luxury jet on a busy street. One of the members was shot and killed during the chaos, but the other five still remain at large—“

Ray blinked. _What? Shot and killed?_

“—can confirm the identity of the dead vigilante as Ray Narvaez, Jr. However the others—Geoff Ramsey, Jack Patillo, James Haywood, Michael Jones, and Gavin Free—have current locations that are unknown.” The screen flashed pictures of the men, Ray’s friends.

Ray couldn’t breathe.

He backed away from the TV, heart pounding. The TV just said he was _dead_. It made sense now why no one came to rescue him. Why they lied about his escape. No one came to save him because according to them he couldn’t be saved. Because to them he was already lost the moment the police shot him.

Because to the rest of the world, Ray Narvaez, Jr. was dead.


End file.
